Parsley, Sage, Rosemary, and Thyme
by WeBuiltThePyramids
Summary: She leaned back and looked into his eyes as she gave a little laugh, the one that she knew relaxed him instead of making him feel hurt. "I know. It's a reference to a song."


**So I kinda wanted to write something from Paige's POV where she can't stop thinking about just how much she loves Walter. And after last night's episode (This Is The Pits) I finally had some inspiration.**

* * *

The loudest cases often led to the quietest nights.

They'd been awake for over sixty hours, save some almost useless naps on the plane rides. Seven countries, four different threats, over fifty million people saved without once knowing they were in danger, and when they returned to where they'd started, there wasn't even someone there to tell them they were the official winners of the Amazing Race.

The most terrifying aspect of the case was the entire team had been separated for most of it. At one point, the six of them had been in four different countries at once, and no two were together. The coms had gone out twice, and at one point a report had come through to the newly reunited Paige and Sylvester that Walter had been killed.

Paige didn't remember much of the nineteen minutes that they'd believed it, but she knew that she and Sly had spent them in an abandoned warehouse and along with the overwhelming relief that came with the news that he was not only alive, but perfectly unharmed came the realization that her throat was so hoarse she could barely speak, her eyes hurt, and the front of Sylvester's shirt was damp with what she strongly suspected were her tears.

She wondered if she'd said anything coherent or if she'd simply screamed. She wasn't sure she wanted to ask.

Now they were home. All of them. The others had left – Ralph was staying overnight at what Toby was currently calling La Quintis. Paige almost told him he couldn't go – not after the few days the team had had – but it had been planned in advance, and she knew that the tight hug he'd given her upon their return was his equivalent of cuddling close to her and falling asleep.

And it was quiet. And it was nice.

Walter was standing at his desk flipping over some papers, having come down from showering a few minutes before. They still had work to do – both of them – before morning, but although she'd clung to him like a lifeline when they'd been reunited in Poland, hours after thinking him dead, she wanted to hold him again. She wanted that extra bit of evidence that they were both back home. He saw her looking at him and gave a small smile.

Paige closed the short distance between them, walking gratefully into his arms. He was warm. Solid. Secure. "Walter," she sighed, her chin resting on his shoulder.

"Right here," he said, and Paige could tell by how tightly he was holding her that he needed this as much as she did. She closed her eyes and inhaled, breathing him in, comforted by the familiarity.

"You smell nice," she murmured, pressing her nose into his cheek.

"Rosemary," he said in a low voice. "I heard you like it."

"Mmmhmm," she said. "I do like it. Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme."

"It's only the rosemary," he said, sounding startled.

She leaned back and looked into his eyes as she gave a little laugh, the one that she knew relaxed him instead of making him feel hurt. "I know. It's a reference to a song."

"I will look it up on the YouTube, then," he said.

Paige closed her eyes, leaning forward again and pushing her nose against his neck. "You smell _so_ good," she mumbled, breathing him in again, the rosemary tangling with his normal scent. She slid her arms around him slowly. They were only holding each other, but the world around them grew blurry, gradually fading away until she couldn't identify anything but Walter.

"Sit down," she whispered in his ear, eyes still closed, hoping her currently fuzzy memory served her well enough to recall a chair in close proximity. He pulled back from her just enough to glance behind him and make sure he wouldn't accidentally miss his chair and crash unceremoniously on the floor. As he eased down, she followed him, lowering herself until she straddled his thighs. Putting her hands on the side of his face – something she knew always got to him – Paige put her lips firmly on his.

She felt his fingers press against her hips as he kissed her back, his tongue running along her bottom lip. She parted her lips and sighed, her thumbs lightly stroking his cheeks. He slid his arms all the way around her and pulled her closer, their chests touching.

"I love you," she breathed between kisses. "I love you so much."

She could tell from the rumble in his lips when she put her mouth back on his that he'd been starting to reciprocate, but he didn't try to pull away to finish. He knew that she knew.

His hand ran slowly up and down her back, which made a wave of warmth rush through her body. He still struggled, sometimes, verbalizing how he felt beyond the _I love you_ that she swore she always felt him say as well as heard. But he told her that, and a million other things, in the way he kissed her, the way he held her, the way she could tell each and every time he touched her that he wanted to be doing nothing else. There was so much love radiating from this man that Paige sometimes, irrationally of course, feared that the combination of it coming from the two of them would somehow accidentally cause the worldwide disaster they spent most of their working hours trying to prevent.

"Paige," he mumbled after she couldn't even begin to guess how long, "we have work to finish."

"I know," she said, regretfully; she could kiss him for hours and sometimes had and pulling back, even just far enough to look at him, was a disappointment. She ran her hands slowly through his curls and smiled lovingly. "Mmmm," she whined, leaning forward and burying her head against his shoulder as she wrapped her arms around his neck. She knew they had to get to work. But she didn't want to move.

Walter chuckled as he tightened his arms around her again. "Paige," he whispered, mock annoyance in his voice.

"Your fault," she mumbled. "You didn't have to cheat death and _then_ smell so nice."


End file.
